A Helping Hand
by RainLily13
Summary: Prompt fill on tumblr: Breaking the Rules, Danger Ahead & Safety First. Set after 2x24.


_Prompt fill I did for katasstropheee on tumblr and thought I'd share here._

_The prompts were: #50: Breaking the Rules, #56: Danger Ahead, & #97: Safety First_

_Set after 2x24.  
_

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_**Disclaimer: **_Obviously, Elementary isn't mine.

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—A Helping Hand—

It was instinctive, now, for Joan to shy away from guns. She had always held a healthy amount of caution when it came to firearms—she'd seen enough of the damage they could cause during her tenure as a surgeon; had stitched up her fair share of bullet wounds.

But she never was so… uncomfortable. Edgy, even.

She knew, logically, that it was silly. Being nervous or even afraid of a gun that was pointing at you was natural. Being so of a gun that was in the hand of someone you trusted, pointed not at herself but at someone dangerous, or even safely holstered away, wasn't. Nor was it practical, especially in her line of work.

She hated it, actually, how little control she had over herself now.

o.O.o

No matter how much she claimed otherwise, Joan was _not _fine.

It was late into the night when Marcus found himself sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the blinking cursor on his computer screen when he was supposed to be typing up his report for the case they had just wrapped up—they being Joan and himself, because Sherlock had apparently flounced off to _MI6? _Which, yeah, that wasn't a subject he was willing to broach with Joan again anytime soon.

She was slow to start, but once Joan got going… Well, he almost felt pity for the man for when the two partners would see each other again. He had a feeling Joan wouldn't be pulling any punches on letting Sherlock in on her thoughts about his decision, as moving out did not equate to ending their partnership.

But in any case, Joan.

Joan, who he couldn't help but notice was abnormally tense when out in the field, especially when it came to firearms. Joan, who he could have _sworn _flinched when he placed a hand on his piece when talking to a suspect they thought might try something a few weeks ago and who looked like she'd stopped breathing just last week when one of the other detectives was forced to pull her gun on another perp.

Joan, who when asked if she was okay, merely brushed it off with a wave of her hand and a pinched expression as she studiously ignored even the Captain's concerned look.

Something had happened. He didn't know what, but he did have an idea that it had something to do with that day he couldn't reach her, just a few days before the Captain and he pulled Sherlock in about his brother's prints being found on a murder weapon.

"I think you ought to be getting home now."

Marcus felt his lips stretch out in a smile, unable to help himself. Pushing away from his desk, he swiveled in his chair to face the woman standing nearby, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised just for him. "Hey, thought you already left."

Joan smiled back lightly, ponytail swinging as she shook her head. "Not yet. Wanted to check some things first."

Concerned it had to do with the case they just closed, he leaned forward. "Something up?"

"Nope. Was just gonna head out now, but then I saw you were still here so I wanted to say goodnight first."

"Ah," Marcus hummed, leaning back, and his gaze drifted away as he considered something.

"Marcus?"

The detective turned to Joan. He probably shouldn't, but… "You got anywhere you need to be tonight?"

Joan's eyebrows lifted at his question, before quickly furrowing. "No, why?"

Marcus climbed to his feet and reached over to softly touch Joan's elbow. "Come with me."

o.O.o

"Marcus, what—"

"Now, I know," Marcus gently interjected, "This isn't exactly your idea of an ideal spot to hang out on a Friday night."

"You took me to the firing range in your guys' basement," Joan said dryly, and despite the snark, Marcus could see she was restraining herself. She was uncomfortable, and wary at that.

"Joan," Marcus murmured, his tone softer. "I know I'm no Sherlock, but it doesn't take a genius to pick up your sudden aversion to guns. Last week, when Simmons had to pull her gun and take a shot at a suspect? You looked…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "You've never reacted like that."

Joan met his gaze steadily for about five seconds, her lips pressed thin, before she tore her gaze away and glared at a spot somewhere over his shoulder.

"Now, I don't know what happened—and I'm not asking if you don't wanna talk, but I am here to offer you something. Some help."

Joan lifted an eyebrow and regarded him skeptically. "You want me to shoot a gun?"

Marcus grinned. "If you think you can manage it. Unloading a magazine might get rid of some of that tension you're carrying. I've always found it therapeutic myself." He shrugged and his grin widened. "Or, I'll do the shooting and you can pretend to be impressed by my skills. And in the meant time, maybe this can help you get used to being near guns again."

Joan's eyes fluttered as she let out a soft huff. "Exposure therapy," she murmured under her breath with a reluctant smile.

Again, Marcus just shrugged, waiting.

Joan gave a small sigh. "And if I don't want to do either?"

Marcus scratched at his cheek, unfazed. "Then you don't and we can go grab some coffee before I give you a lift home—if that's something you're more interested in. Your choice."

As Joan looked away down the range where a paper target hung limply, swiping a palm across her face, Marcus thought she was going to refuse.

Instead, she only let out a louder sigh, this one touched with resignation. "Fine. I guess I can watch you _try _to impress me."

Marcus laughed. "Oh, _try_, is it?" he replied, shaking his head as he went to grab a couple of earmuffs and safety glasses that were hung on the wall, returning to hand Joan one of each. "Safety first," he said wryly at her pursed lips.

Joan rolled her eyes and accepted them, putting the gear on.

They moved over to the stall where Marcus had laid down his handgun earlier. He sidled up and picked up the firearm, checking the ammo and the safety before he went to take aim. Before he flicked off the safety and took a shot, though, he tossed a glance back at Joan.

Standing a couple feet behind him and to the side, she had her arms cross firmly against her stomach, her jaw tightly squared, and her lips pressed thin. It took her about five seconds to tear her gaze from his raised weapon to meet his own gaze straight on.

Making sure to give her a comforting smile, which she managed to muster a small, if not reluctant one of her own in return, Marcus tapped his earmuffs and glasses before speaking loud enough for her to hear. "Shouldn't be surprised, but you make even these work too."

It was enough to startle a laugh out her and he managed to linger long enough to see her eyes go round with surprise before he turned back to his target.

"You gonna keep flirting or you gonna impress me instead?" he heard her call out and Marcus couldn't help his grin.

"What, I can't do both?"

o.O.o

The next time Joan was out in the field in a situation in which a gun was being pulled was when they were walking up to a suspect's door and heard shouting and glass breaking coming from inside.

Immediately, Marcus was drawing his gun and taking point.

Joan didn't even blink as she moved to stand back behind him.

"I knew we should have came with back-up," Marcus was sighing.

"You want to wait?" Joan asked, already pulling out her cell, ready to call the Captain.

Marcus paused, listening to the shouting, before quickly shaking his head. "No, I only hear two voices, so it might just a domestic dispute. Besides, it'll take too long." Adjusting his grip on his firearm, he looked over his shoulder. "You good?" he asked, giving his gun a wiggle.

Joan nodded firmly. "As I'll ever be."

"Then let's go see what all the noise is about."

o.O.o

___This really was such a delight to write. I hope you all enjoyed it! _Feel free to hit me up with a prompt, be it a number one like this one, or just whatever.

_RainLily^^_


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